


Set The Spark

by BearlyWriting



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [10]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Electrocution, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Prompt: Electrocution, Rescue, Torture, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 21:31:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19304224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearlyWriting/pseuds/BearlyWriting
Summary: "The metal floor is hard beneath Hunk’s knees, even with the paladin armour. There’s a drain set into the dip between his legs. Hunk shuts his eyes and tries his best not to think about why exactly that might be necessary, or about the fact that the Galra is hailing the castle and everything that means is probably coming. He’s not very successful."For the prompt "Electrocution" for the Bad Things Happen Bingo.





	Set The Spark

The Galra ship smells of hot metal and the strange, ozone stink of blaster guns. It’s a little like the way the lions smell, particularly during a battle, but there’s something else about it that turns Hunk’s stomach in a way the inside of Yellow never has. Something almost animal. It gets worse the further away from the hangar they get, Hunk stumbling along beneath the cool, impersonal press of the sentries either side of him. It’s the heavy, musky scent of living beings – of sweat and blood and other things that Hunk definitely shouldn’t think too hard about if he wants to keep the contents of his stomach.

Not that there’s much chance of that – it’s been churning dangerously ever since Yellow first took that awful hit, and there’s no sign of it letting up any time soon. The smell is only the cherry on top of an already rotten cake, sliding thick and almost tangible across Hunk’s tongue. By the time the sentries finally pull him to a stop, Hunk is sweating, his stomach a small, tight ball inside him.

“The Yellow Paladin.”

The hulking Galra soldier that turns to greet him does nothing to settle Hunk’s nerves. Neither does the rest of the room. It’s surprisingly empty, aside from the wide screen that takes up most of one wall, and the console underneath it, which the Galra currently eyeing him is leaning over.

“Not my first choice.” A flash of sharp white teeth. “But I suppose you’ll do.”

Hunk shivers. The blank metal walls seem suddenly too close, as if they’re shrinking in towards him. The Galra, when he steps towards him, seems inordinately tall. Hunk is a big guy – he’s not used to feeling quite so small.

“Glowing praise,” he finally manages, squeezing the words past the fear clutching tight in his chest. The Galra just smirks. One huge hand reaches out, slow enough that, if Hunk actually had a choice, he could lean away. He doesn’t. The sentries’ hands are tight on his arms. When he flinches, they grip hard enough that he knows they’ll leave bruises.

“Don’t worry,” the Galra murmurs, claws pricking at Hunk’s jaw as he clutches his chin. “You won’t have to do much besides scream when I tell you too.”

God. Hunk feels acid rising dangerously at the back of his throat. That’s…not good is probably an understatement. Hunk scrabbles around for a snarky reply but comes up empty.

“Kneel down and keep your mouth shut.”

The hand finally shifts away from his jaw, but it only moves to his shoulder instead. Something warm and wet trickles over Hunk’s skin. Blood, Hunk thinks woozily, feeling his stomach clench. When the Galra presses him to the floor, Hunk goes easily. Part of him is worried that if he stands any longer he’s going to pass out.

“Hail the Alteans,” the Galra snaps, turning back towards the screen behind him. One of the sentries moves immediately to obey.

The metal floor is hard beneath Hunk’s knees, even with the paladin armour. There’s a drain set into the dip between his legs. Hunk shuts his eyes and tries his best not to think about why exactly that might be necessary, or about the fact that the Galra is hailing the castle and everything that means is probably coming. He’s not very successful.

A burst of static has Hunk reflexively opening his eyes, and then the bridge of the castle is filling the screen, huge and surprisingly close. They’re all there, Hunk realises with a sick, sinking sensation: Allura standing at the centre of the bridge, Shiro at her shoulder; Keith, his bayard in his hand, on the far right of the screen; Lance and Pidge clustered together a little way in front of him; and, closest to the screen, Coran, standing at the Altean console, face unusually solemn. They must all be able to see him too, kneeling on the filthy metal floor of the ship, straddling a drain. He wonders how pathetic he looks.

“Release the Yellow Paladin,” Allura snaps, as soon as the screen focusses. It’s her command voice and Hunk feels his spine straighten a little in response. But the Galra only laughs, an awful, chilling noise without any humour in it.

“I’ll release your paladin if you turn over the rest of the lions to my control.” It’s an insane bargain. Hunk is honestly a little impressed – both with the fact that the Galra had the balls to suggest such an exchange, and the fact that he somehow believes that Hunk is worth so much. Even Hunk is distantly aware that he couldn’t buy one of the lions, let alone all of them.

“No.” Allura’s voice is steel. “You will release him, and in return, we won’t destroy your ship.” 

“Feel free to destroy the ship, if you so badly wish to say goodbye to your paladin.” Even through the screen, Hunk can see Allura’s face tighten. “In the meantime, I believe you should consider my offer.”

He circles around, footsteps loud against the metal floor, until Hunk can feel the heat of him against his back. It sends a shudder crawling over Hunk’s skin. A heavy hand lands on his shoulder, warm even through the armour Hunk’s wearing, and Hunk’s stomach gives a queasy lurch. This is bad.

“I’m sure I can offer you some motivation.”

There’s movement behind him. Up on the screen, Allura’s eyes narrow, and Hunk can see the others reacting too, shifting and tensing in response to whatever it is that Hunk can’t see. Something thick seems to settle over the room. The sharp, ozone scent Hunk had smelt in the corridor seems suddenly so thick that Hunk can barely breathe. It’s as though the tension is a physical thing, settling across his shoulders, creeping down his throat and into his lungs. Hunk hears one of the sentries step close, then: “I’m sure you recognise this, Champion.”

That’s definitely not good – nothing good has ever come from the Galra taunting Shiro like that. Hunk should turn around, should get a look at whatever the Galra is talking about, but he’s too afraid. Shiro’s reaction is bad enough: his eyes go wide, his face losing the little colour he had. His expression tenses then goes abruptly blank, as if he’s smoothing all of his emotion away. It’s almost as frightening.

“This isn’t going to help you,” Shiro says, and his voice is strangely blank too. “You don’t need to hurt him.”

Another awful shudder tightens Hunk’s skin. He can almost hear the grin on the Galra’s face, as clearly as he can feel the danger in the air. Something bad is about to happen, and all of Hunk’s team mates are here to watch.

“I think I do actually.”

Before Hunk has a chance to even wonder what’s about to happen, something presses hard into the soft juncture between Hunk’s shoulder and his neck, and Hunk’s entire world blacks out. It’s…excruciating. Pain spears through Hunk’s entire body, branching out from that first sharp epicentre of agony. All of Hunk’s muscles seize and he can feel himself – as if from very far away – going rigid, his spine straightening painfully. It’s like liquid fire through his veins, sharp and jagged, as if he’s being torn apart from the inside out, and Hunk would be worried about that but there isn’t a single coherent thought in his head. Distantly, he’s aware that he’s screaming. Aware of the fact that he’s fallen jerkily to the filthy metal floor. Aware of voices floating through the air around him, strange and distorted and unintelligible under the sounds he’s making in turn. Then, finally, blissfully, the pain stops, and Hunk slides slowly back into awareness.

“-op! Stop it! Hunk!” Of course it’s Lance’s voice he hears first, because that’s Lance all over – loud, and forthright, and always in Hunk’s corner. Hunk feels a strange shiver of something he can’t quite define: a weird mix of gratitude and shame and the aching, hollow pain throbbing through his body as the aftershocks of the electricity tingle through him. The floor beneath his cheek is cold in a distant sort of way, as if Hunk still isn’t entirely present in his body. In contrast, the rest of him feels too hot, his skin small and tight and prickly.

“You’ve made your point.” Shiro sounds calm, but there’s an undercurrent to his voice that Hunk suspects he can only hear because he knows him so well.

Allura’s voice is a little less controlled when she says: “This will not get you want you want. Release the Yellow Paladin back to us at once.”

Hunk doesn’t bother looking up at the screen. He isn’t sure if he can even move his head right now, and besides, he’d rather watch his own panting breaths fog up the slick metal floor beneath him than have to see the expressions his team mates must be making. Just the thought of having to look at Lance’s face right now makes him feel faintly sick.

“Hmmm.” There’s a soft clicking sound and faint pressure as the Galra taps the shock rod – thankfully not currently active, although Hunk is aware that could change at any moment – against Hunk’s armour. “I really don’t think you get it yet.”

The tapping stops. Then the end of the shock rod presses into Hunk’s ribs and Hunk gets a rush of dizzying fear, and the sound of Keith snarling “No,” beyond the screen, before pain shoots through him again. It lasts a long time – longer than before, Hunk thinks, although maybe it just feels that way. By the time the electricity finally cuts off, Hunk has screamed himself hoarse, and his entire body is trembling with agony and exhaustion. His stomach is a small, hard ball, turning itself inside out in pain and fear, and Hunk manages to drag in one shaky breath before he’s expelling the contents of his stomach onto the floor.

It’s mostly liquid – it’s been a long time since breakfast – but that doesn’t make it feel any better coming up. Doesn’t stop his throat burning. Doesn’t stop the tears prickling hot behind his eyes. They spill over his cheeks without permission, trickling down to his chin, carving hot lines across his face. Hunk can’t help wondering, a little hysterically, if they’ll make the electricity worse. It’s not a clever thought, but Hunk’s brain is too fried for him to feel bad about that.

“You have one varga.” The Galra’s voice floats down towards him as if from very far away. Hunk had almost forgotten he was in the room with him. There’s a reply from the Castle, but Hunk doesn’t have the brain capacity to parse the sound into words, and then the screen goes abruptly blank. That’s…Hunk can’t actually tell if that’s a good thing or not. There’s no point torturing him whilst the others aren’t watching, is there? Then again, the Galra don’t usually need an excuse.

There’s a foot against his shoulder, rolling him onto his back, away from his puddle of sick, thankfully. Hunk goes with it easily enough, too sore and limp and out of his head to resist. There isn’t much point anyway – resisting just means more pain and there’s nothing here that he needs to protect, Hunk isn’t petty

“You’d better hope they make the right choice, paladin,” the Galra sneers. Then he turns abruptly and leaves the room, and Hunk is alone with the two sentries and a blank screen, and a pile of his own vomit.

 

***

 

It doesn’t feel like it’s been a varga when the Galra returns, although Hunk suspects he’s lost consciousness a few times in between, so he probably isn’t the best judge. He hasn’t moved from where the Galra left him, sprawled on the cold floor. His muscles ache too badly to contemplate pulling himself upright, and there’s nowhere to go even if he tried – not with the sentries standing silent guard. So, Hunk had lain on the floor and tried to get some control of his breathing back and listened to the pounding of his heart in his ears – too fast, too strong. God, this isn’t how Hunk wants to die. Hunk has survived too much for his heart to give up on him in some cold Galra torture room, miles away from Earth.

The Galra has the shock rod in hand, Hunk notices. His eyes catch on it straight away with a sort of instinctual fear. The Galra notices, waves it in a jaunty sort of salute, and grins, sharp white teeth beneath strange purple lips.

“I’ve not heard anything from your friends, little paladin.” The tip of the shock rod presses into the middle of Hunk’s chest, pinning him back against the floor, but, thankfully, not electrocuting him. Hunk’s heart races underneath the pressure anyway, punching against his ribs as if it might jump right out of him. “Perhaps they need another demonstration?”

Hunk had expected this, because he knows that Allura would never give up the lions for him – he would be furious if she did – but it doesn’t stop the awful, hollow pain in his chest, or the dizzy rush of fear. He’s glad he’s lying down, because Hunk suspects that he might pass out if he were standing, and the Galra had stripped him of his helmet before they had dragged him through the ship.

“Hail them.”

The screen flickers into life. Hunk allows himself to look, because he’s not being actively hurt right now. When the camera focusses, only Allura and Coran come into view, standing exactly where they had been, but suddenly four paladins down. Something shifts in Hunk’s chest. He isn’t sure if it’s hope or fear but he clings to the sensation anyway. The Galra smirks, seemingly unconcerned.

“Have you had a chance to consider my offer Princess?” He makes a show of looking around, although the entire bridge of the Castle is visible on the huge screen. “Are your paladins bringing me the lions as we speak?”

Allura looks as calm and regal as ever, but there’s a sharp curve to her lips that sends a little shiver over Hunk’s skin. “They are on their way, Commander.”

A rumble, as if from a distant explosion. The ship rocks beneath Hunk. Allura’s smile grows sharper. “In fact, you should expect them very soon.”

It’s difficult to see the Galra’s face from Hunk’s angle, but he catches the white flash of teeth as he snarls. Feels the press of the shock rod hard enough to bruise against his chest. “You bitch,” the Galra snarls and the shock rod sparks into agonising life.

There’s a crash that Hunk recognises even through the pain, then the electricity coursing through him abruptly cuts off. Hunk gasps for breath, disoriented, vision blurry with tears. Someone’s standing over him, he recognises, with a detached sort of fear. There are legs blocking most of his vision. Hunk can’t tell who they belong to in his strange haze – whether they’re the Galra or the sentries or the paladins – or maybe, he thinks with a little trickle of fear, something worse.

The sound of metal clashing against metal is loud in the small room. Probably here to rescue him, Hunk decides – probably the paladins – and he lets himself slump back against the floor. The legs move away, accompanied by the rhythmic thump of fast footsteps, then there are more footsteps and someone drops to their knees beside him.

“Hunk? Hey, Hunk? Are you OK? Please, please be OK.”

It’s Lance, because of course it is. His voice is thick, as if the words are squeezing out of a swollen throat, as if Lance is trying not to cry, and Hunk lets his head loll to the side to offer Lance a shaky smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” His voice is surprisingly small. He tries clearing his sore throat. Then, stronger: “I’m fine Lance, help me up.”

Hands press his shoulders back against the floor and Hunk’s muscles are still too weak to resist, even though normally he could have easily shrugged Lance off.

“Woah, hold on Hunk – let them –“

He’s cut off by a furious snarl. There’s fighting somewhere nearby, the sounds of a struggle, then a wet thump as the Galra falls to the floor and doesn’t get back up. Hunk flinches without meaning to and Lance’s hand tightens on his shoulder. His face, leaning over Hunk, is tense and surprisingly pale in the purple wash of the Galra ship.

Someone else drops down beside him – Pidge – and Hunk is suddenly painfully aware of the fact that he’s lying on his back beside a pile of his own vomit.

“Seriously guys, I can get up.”

When he shifts upright this time, Lance doesn’t stop him. Pidge tentatively reaches out and presses her own hand to his back, even though there’s probably not much she could do to support him if he really couldn’t sit up under his own power. He offers her a surprisingly solid smile anyway, shaking out his arms as he does it to try to get some feeling back into them.

“See, I’m fine.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” The legs reappear, and this time Hunk recognises that they’re attached to Shiro. The Black Paladin is smiling, but there’s something tight in his expression that has Hunk’s heart thumping painfully in his chest, something dark and furious in his eyes. “Are you up to walking?”

“Yeah.” It’s a little embarrassing to be the centre of such focussed attention. He shifts, and Keith steps forward to help him up. Hunk feels shaky and lightheaded once he’s finally pulled to his feet. He sways and Lance ducks under his arm automatically to try to steady him. Shiro too, steps forward to grip his other arm. The shock rod is in Shiro’s Galra hand, Hunk notices, with a queasy lurch of his stomach.

Shiro follows his gaze. His face twists and for a moment there’s such breath-taking anger on it that Hunk is honestly a little afraid. Then he tosses the rod away from him with a clatter. Hunk can’t help flinching. Can’t help wondering exactly what Shiro remembers. The Galra had suggested that Shiro had his own experience with the rod – and Shiro’s attitude certainly seems to back that up. It’s not surprising, but Hunk’s mouth tastes bitter with the thought anyway. That electricity had hurt – a lot. Hunk doesn’t particularly like the thought of any of his friends experiencing it.

“Sorry Hunk.” Shiro’s face has smoothed back to his usual neutral expression. Hunk smiles back, but it feels strange on his lips.

“It’s fine. Let’s just get out of here.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> I have a tumblr at [bearly-writing](https://bearly-writing.tumblr.com/) if you fancy dropping by for a chat, or to request a Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt!


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